And Dream Your Perfect Fairytale
by Natta
Summary: Beka is no fairytale princess...


**And Dream Your Perfect Fairytale...**

**By Natta**

I never used to believe most things happen for a reason. Well, unless it was the precise reason to piss me off, but mostly, I believed in chance. Chance, and sometimes luck. Mostly bad luck in those cases. Now…I'm not so sure.

It all seems too convenient. The handsome knight, lost from everything he knows, rescued by the fair princess, into a lost world he can't understand…only it's supposed to be the other way around, isn't it? And I'm certainly no princess, and neither am I fair. I stumble in heels, get tangled in a skirt, I can't make _any_ sense of curling irons, and don't even get me started on mascara. I wonder if Sarah was fair. Well, she was dark, wasn't she, but certainly beautiful. I bet _she_ could put on lipstick without getting any on her teeth. I bet _she_ could do mascara without poking herself in the eye! I bet she could…

I sigh, and turn a corner, certain I have passed this point before. It's no big deal really, I'm not actually _going_ anywhere. Sarah must have been…he gets this look in his eye when he talks about her. It doesn't fit in with the fairy tale. Well, that's just as good, isn't it? Because there are no fairy tales in real life. Not for me anyway. I'm not a fairytale kind of person. Growing up with a drug addict father and no mother might seem like a perfect _outline_ but I have long given up the hope that someone will come and tell me I'm actually a princess, and take me to a castle, worshipping people, beautiful ball gowns, and a handsome prince. That's never going to happen. I'm a butt-kicking pilot, and I attract men like Tyr Anasazi, like Bobby Jensen. It's women like Sarah Riley that attract the princes of this universe.

So I might hunt for Tyr, watch him for a while, until I get bored. He has a perfect body, any woman could see that, and…his rejection wouldn't hurt so much. I have realised that I don't look for men that will love me, and keep me, and stay by my side. I look for men that will leave me, because it's safe. At least I know, and I can pretend I chose it. It hurts less that way. It hurts less with Tyr; it hurt less with Bobby, even if he was scraping the edge of that security blanket.

I don't _want_ to go there. I don't want a fairytale. He hides away, he pines for his princess, and he doesn't even see I'm there. He believes in fairytales. The only fairytale that might be mine is the ugly duckling, only I never grew up to be a swan. That's just something you tell kids, but really, only cygnets become swans, little ducklings become, well…ducks. That's my fairytale. The ugly duckling that grew up to be a duck. Watching the handsome cobb pining for Sarah the Swan. Sometimes I forget that's what I'm not. Sometimes I forget I'm just the duckling. I won't fool myself I'm any swan, but when I look at him…I forget. I forget swans and ducks don't go well together.

I pause and sit down against the wall, laughing at myself as I shake my head. This is really getting to me, isn't it? Going on about princes and princesses, ducks and swans, fairytales…I'm a pilot. I'm in love with the slipstream, and I don't care about men. I certainly don't care about Dylan Hunt. He can sit there and pine for his Sarah for as long as he wants. What business is it of mine? I will fly, I will fight, go for bad guys, and I will dream of no more fairytales, because that's not who I am. I smile and get up, but as I round the corner I bump into someone. He grabs my shoulders and pushes us apart slightly, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," I mumble and try to get past. He lets go of my shoulders, and I start walking away, but he calls me back.

"Beka, I…" I turn around uncertainly to look at him. He has this embarrassed look on his face, like a shy schoolboy, and I need to stop, and go back. "I've been…cutting myself off, I hadn't quite…come to terms with what's been happening, but I think I need to…" He swallows, "I need to do…that. Listen, I'm not really ready for anything _too_ radical yet, but would you like to…" He clears his throat. "Would you like to come to my quarters, for coffee maybe, just get to know each other a little? I feel that we haven't seen much of each other, and…" He looks so awkward I have to put him out of his misery.

"Yes…" I reply, "yes, of course." He gets this look of immense relief on his face as he smiles at me.

"So…I'll see you later, after your shift on Command?" I nod, and he walks away. Unwillingly, I stare after him, and a broad grin spreads on my face.

The Ugly Duckling always _was_ my favourite fairy tale…


End file.
